| DECEMBER 9, 2014 -- It was November 12, 2013. I had the day off from working on the farm and Dad said we could go hunting when I got home from school. I ran late coming home and Dad was ready and waiting when I walked in. I grabbed my Grandfather’s old hunting jacket and his Winchester 308, model 88, that I also inherited.
We got into my father’s truck and drove down the road a little ways to the edge of one of the back fields. Quietly, we got out of the truck and made our way to the edge of one of the back fields. It had snowed that morning and there was just enough snow on the ground and the woods to see a good distance. We knew that we weren’t going to have too much time in the woods before dark. We hurried to the wood line, quietly crossed over a fence and made our way carefully down off the ridge into a swampy area.
My father lost his footing and slipped and fell; he was as quiet as a tree falling in the woods! I knew Dad was fine because he got right up, but at that moment all I could think was that no deer would come out after that. We continued on, making our way through the swamp and soon found fresh tracks!
We walked up onto the next ridge; we were almost to the spot where we wanted to be. We walked about a hundred yards along the ridge to “my rock.” Dad and I got up onto the 4 foot tall rock. From this point, we could see down into the valley and up into the swampy area that we’d just come from as well into a brushy area beyond.
My father asked me which way I wanted to face; I chose to look over the valley. We stood back so Dad was looking towards the thick swampy areas. We stood there for about 45 minutes when I glanced over my shoulder where Dad was supposed to be watching. I whispered to my father and asked him, “Why is that tree moving like that?” The movement stopped and I returned to watching the valley. A few minutes passed and Dad whispered, “Get your gun up!” I turned around and pulled up my gun. I placed the gun next to my father’s shoulder. It was then I spotted horns in the brush; I knew he was a big deer. I noticed also that he was dark colored and realized that this was the very large buck that I had been chasing for the past two years.
He (the buck), didn’t notice that we were there. He made his way about 10 feet out into a little clearing in the brush. At this point, he was 50 yards out and slightly quartered towards me. I was still standing behind my father, waiting for a broadside shot. Dad stood as still as possible, knowing that if he moved a muscle, the deer would be gone! The deer picked up his nose and looked straight towards us. At that moment Dad quietly whispered, “Take him, take him!” After the second “take him,” I clicked off the safety, aimed for the middle of his chest and took the shot. He dropped like a sack of rocks, right there!
We could see that he wasn’t moving, so we sat down for a few minutes to calm down and let my Dad’s ears stop ringing! Then we fought our way through the thick undergrowth to where he was laying in the small clearing. The first thing that we noticed was one of the kickers on his rack, and the thickness of his neck. It was then we both realized just how big of an animal this buck was. We counted 14 points, and the bases of his horns were huge. We followed his tracks back into the swamp to see what tree he was rubbing on. It was a fairly large sapling about 4 inches diameter.
My father congratulated me; he’d never seen a deer like that. It was the deer of a lifetime! He was too big to drag up the hill, so my father called my mother to bring our Yamaha Rhino down. I then handed the phone to Dad and he took several pictures of me and my deer.
We field dressed him and my mother still wasn’t there yet so we decided to drag him a little ways. Shortly, my mother showed up and together, we loaded my big buck into the back and drove to the farm.
Once there, I rinsed him out good, weighed him in at 216, and showed him off to everyone. More pictures were taken.
A while ago, my father told me what his father John Molodich told him, “Just keep pressure on him and eventually, you’ll get him.” I did! Grandpa would be proud!
Editor’s Note: Andrew’s buck scored a whopping 162 6/8” and won an award at the 2014 NBBC Annual Awards Banquet. Andrew is 16 years old and is a 4th generation dairy farmer. The farm provides 450 acres to hunt in Windham County, CT.
Article reprinted from Northeast Big Bucks Magazine, Records 2014 Issue.
|
